Steal The Sun(战争间谍)-第5部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！


“We　don’t　know。”
“Then　how　do　you　know　if　you’ve　gotten　too　much？”
“Skin　lesions　form　that　look　like　burns。　Bruises　form。　Nausea。　Vomiting。　Diarrhea。　Hair　loss。
Fever。　Bad　fever。”
“Is　too　much　radiation　fatal？”
“Yes。”
“How　long　does　it　take？”
Silence。　Then；　reluctantly。　“There　have　been　accidents。　Only　one　death；　thank　God。　It　took　four
days。”
“But　it　could　be　slower？　Or　faster？”
“Probably；　depending　on　the　man　and　the　dosage。　We　just　don’t　know。　No　guarantees；　Captain。
Not　one。”
Page　21
Finn　stood　without　moving；　measuring　the　increasing　tension　as　the　experimenter　adjusted　the
radiation　counter　again；　causing　the　buzz　to　slow　into　separate　clicks。　The　man　gingerly　moved
the　pulley　handle；　made　notes；　called　out　numbers；　and　eased　the　small　piece　of　U…238　closer　to
its　mate　at　the　bottom　of　the　aquarium。
The　counter　came　alive　again　with　a　low　buzzing　sound。　Tension　coiled　invisibly　around　the
experimenter；　jjut　his　voice　was　steady　as　he　read　off　a　series　of　numbers　for　his　colleagues　at　the
back　of　the　lab。　His　words　issued　from　the　ceiling　speaker　grille　like　a　disembodied　counterpart
to　the　counter’s　metallic　buzz。
“We　did　it　differently　before；”　said　Groves。　“We　used　a　contraption　we　called　a　guillotine　to　test
critical　mass。　But　we　didn’t　have　this　much　pure　isotope　then。”
General　Groves’　words　faded　as　the　counter’s　voice　strenghtened。　The　man　on　the　stool　was
cranking　the　pulley　again。　It　moved　under　the　man’s　careful　urging；　then　stuck。　The　man　pressed
lightly。　The　pulley　did　not　budge；　its　mechanism　was　gummed　by　repeated　exposure　to　salt
water。　The　uranium　bullet　hung　about　four　inches　above　the　target。　The　experimenter　pushed
harder　on　the　crank；　to　no　effect。
“We’re　supposed　to　have　it　ready　to　ship　by　6：30；”　said　one　of　the　observers　in　a　tight　voice。
“It’s　6：28。”
“I　know。　I　know！”　The　experimenter　swore　and　pressed　harder　on　the　crank。　Then　he　backed　up
the　pulley　and　lowered　it　quickly。　It　balked　again　at　the　same　spot。　He　backed　up　further　and
lowered　again；　knowing　there　was　not　enough　time　to　dismantle　the　mechanism　again。　It　must
work　now。
The　scientist’s　concentration　gave　way　to　frustration。　He　cranked　the　pulley　all　the　way　to　the
top；　then　reversed　it　with　rapid；　angry　motions；　again　and　again。　The　pulley　reached　the　same
spot　and　balked；　again　and　again；　until　the　last　time　when　something　snapped　and　the　U…235
plunged　doe　to　rest　fitted　against　its　mate。
The　radiation　counter　screamed。
Instinctively；　the　scientist　tried　to　separate　the　U…235　with　his　bare　hands。　The　pieces　were
smooth；　heavy；　infinitely　slippery　and　fitted　too　well　with　each　other。
“Jesus　Christ！”　cried　the　scientist。　He　clawed　at　the　two　pieces　of　metal　until　they　finally
separated　and　he　could　drag　one　deadly　piece　out　of　the　pond；　stopping　the　chain　reaction。
The　radiation　counter’s　scream　died　to　a　whisper　as　the　scientist　set　aside　the　smaller　piece　of
U…235　that　he　had　retrieved　from　the　aquarium。　He　sagged　against　the　table；　breathing　raggedly；
like　a　man　at　the　end　of　a　long　run。　Less　than　four　seconds　had　passed　since　the　pulley　had
broken。
“Stay　away　from　there！”　said　Groves　as　Finn　leaped　toward　the　door　leading　to　the　lab。　Groves’
hand　clamped　around　Finn’s　wrist　with　surprising　strength。　“Listen　to　me！”　cried　Groves　as
Finn　jerked　free。　“There’s　nothing　you　can　do。　He’s　poisoned；　and　if　you　get　too　close　you　could
be　poisoned　too！”
Behind　the　glass；　one　man　rushed　toward　a　phone；　the　other　toward　the　scientist　who　was
slumped　over　the　table；　staring　at　his　wet　hands　as　though　he　had　never　seen　them　before。　He
groaned　and　let　his　hands　drop　to　the　table。
The　radiation　counter　sang　as　his　hands　passed　near　the　sensitive　probe。　The　scientist　jerked
back　his　hands。　The　counter　became　quiet。　He　brought　his　hands　close　to　the　probe　once　more。
The　counter　sang　of　deadly　radiation。
With　a　strangled　noise；　the　scientist　lunged　away　from　the　counter。　The　other　two　men　looked　at
each　other；　then　at　everything　except　the　experimenter’s　deadly　hands。
Finn　stared　at　each　man’s　face；　a　rictus　of　terror　and　sickness　overlaid　with　sweat。　He　had　seen
such　expressions　before；　Marines　watching　helplessly　as　children　plummeted　onto　rocks　far
below。　He　knew　that　feeling；　the　worst　shade　of　green　in　all　of　the　jungle’s　green　hells。
And　he　knew　he　looked　like　the　men　behind　the　glass；　sweating　and　afraid。
“That　counter　goes　with　me；”　said　Finn；　turning　his　back　on　the　lab。　“I’m　not　going　to　sit　on　a
Page　22
bomb　I　can’t　hear　ticking。”
Los　Alamos
88　Hours　Before　Trinity
Heat　from　the　desert　floor　a　mile　below　twisted　up　the　plateau’s　rugged　sides。　Walking　out　of
Omega　Building　was　like　walking　onto　a　griddle。　General　Groves　wiped　his　face；　but　it　was
more　than　heat　that　made　him　sweat。　The　laboratory　accident　had　delayed　the　uranium’s
departure。　There　was　still　ample　time　to　drive　it　to　Hunter’s　Point　–　he　had　allowed　for
everything；　even　accidents　–　but　that　did　not　make　him　sweat　any　less。
If　there　were　any　more　long　delays；　he　would　be　forced　to　fly　the　uranium　to　San　Francisco。　That
was　something　he　was　determined　to　avoid。　There　was　too　much　country　in　the　west。　If　the　plane
went　down；　the　uranium　could　be　lost　forever。　He　had　a　horror　of　that；　of　the　uranium　falling
out　of　the　sky；　disappearing　into　the　cracks　of　the　empty　land。　So　long　as　the　canister　stayed　on
roads；　he　felt　reasonably　reassured；　if　something　came　apart；　he　would　know　where　it　had
happened　to　the　nearest　yard。　The　ocean　was　a　different　proposition；　more　difficult　to　control；
more　dangerous。　He　had　done　what　he　could　about　that　–　Finn。
Behind　the　General；　strapped　to　a　dolly；　the　nickel　canister　burned　in　the　sun。　The　soldier
pushing　the　dolly　was　sweating　freely。　Even　on　wheels；　the　canister　was　unwieldy；　unreasonably
heavy　for　its　size。
Behind　the　soldier　walked　a　man　in　civilian　clothes　–　business　suit；　hat　and　tie。　He　carried　a
Thompson　submachine　gun　with　professional　ease。　He　watched　everything　but　the　canister　itself；
his　dark　eyes　as　restless　as　his　body　was　calm。
The　small　procession　stopped　in　Omega　Building’s　loading　area。　Five　cars　were　parked　on　the
asphalt。　None　had　military　markings。　All　but　the　first　car　carried　four　men。　The　first　car　had
three。　The　middle　car’s　trunk　was　open；　revealing　a　steel　framework。　The　framework　was　welded
to　the　car’s　body。
“Load　it；”　said　Groves。
Two　men　from　the　middle　car　got　out　and　hoisted　the　canister　off　the　dolly。　Though　both　men
were　strong；　the　canister　was　difficult　to　handle。　Metal　rang　against　metal　as　the　canister　landed
in　its　specially　built　cradle。　One　of　the　men　swore　and　rubbed　skinned　knuckles　while　his　partner
locked　the　canister　into　place。　The　car　settled　on　its　heavy　springs。
Groves　watched　the　locks　close　and　the　trunk　lid　slam　down；　locking　automatically。　The　keys　to
the　cradle　and　trunk　were　already　in　Hunter’s　Point。　Anyone　who　wanted　to　remove　the　canister
before　then　would　need　a　cutting　torch　and　a　lot　of　patience。
The　man　who　had　guarded　the　uranium　on　its　short　trip　from　the　lab　got　into　the　back　seat　of
the　first　car。　The　open　door　revealed　two　more　submachine　guns　in　a　rack　on　the　floorboard。
The　driver　looked　up　at　Groves。　The　General　made　a　curt　gesture。　The　first　car　drove　off。
Precisely　three　minutes　later；　the　second；　third　and　fourth　cars　left。　The　third　car　contained　the
uranium。　Three　minutes　later；　the　last　car　left。　All　cars　were　in　continuous　radio　contact　with　one
another。　They　would　check　in　with　the　General　at　frequent；　predetermined　intervals。　There　was
no　way　the　car　or　canister　could　be　lost。
Yet　Groves　stared　at　the　road　a　long　time　after　the　last　car　had　disappeared。　He　hated　knowing
that　the　uranium　was　physically　out　of　his　grasp。
Juarez
75　Hours　Before　Trinity
The　eye　of　god　was　dusty。　Tiny　flecks　of　desert　grime　had　settled　on　the　god’s　eye　over　the　years；
blurring　the　sharp　geometric　patterns　woven　at　the　center　of　the　design。　The　tiny　tassles　at　each
point　of　the　diamond…shaped　framework　were　dirty；　their　bright　colors　made　drab　by　time　and
neglect。
Kestrel　stared　at　the　single　eye；　admiring　its　symmetry　and　symbolism…　and　the　irony　of　its
Page　23
position　over　one　of　the　busiest　beds　in　Juarez。　Perhaps　the　Aztec　god　whose　eye　hung　there
found　the　prepaid　writhings　of　two　or　more　bodies　amusing；　but　Kestrel　doubted　it。　Even　the
benign　gods　of　his　own　Buddhist　upbringing　looked　upon　prostitution　with　displeasure。
As　for　himself；　Kestrel　felt　like　a　man　condemned　to　a　curious　penance　in　one　of　hell’s　more
grubby　anterooms。
Voyeurism　was　foreign　to　his　nature；　but　he　had　spent　many　hours　crouched　in　a　tiny；　concealed
alcove　just　off　Rubia’s　crib。　Through　the　imported　Indian　screen；　Kestrel　had　seen　a　procession
of　straining　buttocks　and　heard　a　quantity　of　practiced　moans　and　lusty　grunts。
Kestrel　eased　his　cramped　muscles　by　flexing　his　body　subtly；　using　the　discipline　of　karate　that
had　become　second　nature　to　him。　The　discipline　was　mental　as　well　as　physical。　It　helped　him　to
endure　all　of　this　in　order　to　learn　what　Japan　must　know。
With　a　sigh；　Kestrel　looked　from　the　dead　god’s　eye　to　the　intricately　carved　screen　nine　inches
from　his　face。　The　figures　on　the　screen　depicted　all　the　coital　permutations　that　flexible；
determined　human　bodies　could　attain。　Kestrel　wished　that　reality　had　one…tenth　the　elegance　of
the　screen’s　stylized　matings。　He　had　learned　that　viewing　the　unvarnished　sex　act　was　more
distasteful　than　titillating；　and　more　tedious　than　either。
He　had　discovered　military　secrets　from　the　GIs　who　thrashed　so　inelegantly　on　Rubia’s　soiled
mattress。　He　could　not　trust　the　little　Rubia　to　pass　on　all　that　she　learned；　both　her　English　and
her　loyalty　were　erratic。　Thus；　he　was　forced　to　crouch　behind　erotic　carvings　and　witness　acts
that　were　stupefyingly　unerotic。
The　soldier　who　had　just　come　into　the　room　with　Rubia　looked　not　much　older　than　the
sixteen…year…old　whore。　He　was　short　and　red…headed；　one　of　the　instant　lieutenants　that
America　had　ground　out　to　meet　the　needs　of　war。　This　was　his　fifth　visit　to　Rubia。　She　had　told
Kestrel　that　the　soldier　never　questioned　why　she　spent　an　hour　with　him；　yet　charged　no　more
than　she　did　for　her　ten…minute　tricks。
From　what　the　soldier　had　said；　Rubia　was　the　only　diversion　in　a　series　of　boring　assignments
that　stretched　from　the　edge　of　California’s　Saltón　Sea　to　El　Paso；　Texas。　For　months　he　had
observed；　measured　and　retrieved　the　remnants　of　the　empty　bomb　casings　that　were　dropped
one　at　a　time　onto　the　desert　from　B…29s　flying　so　high　they　were　invisible。　For　a　very　young
second　lieutenant　who　had　expected　to　return　to　civilian　life　laden　with　medals　and　war　stories；
the　assignment　on　the　shores　of　a　landlocked　sea　had　been　a　bad　joke　with　no　punchline　in　sight。
As　he　often　complained　to　Rubia；　the　whole　purpose　of　the　bombing　runs　seemed　to　be　to　test　a
proximity　fuse　that　was　supposed　to　explode　a　bomb　several　thousand　feet　above　the　desert。　To
the　lieutenant；　developing　a　proximity　fuse　when　there　already　were　bombs　that　exploded　on
impact　made　little　sense。　Moreover；　to　develop　a　fuse　that　would　explode　two　thousand　feet　up
was　insane。　No　bomb　was　powerful　enough　to　do　much　damage　if　it　exploded　that　far　off　the
ground。　His　commander　had　speculated　that　the　fuse　was　for　a　leaflet　bomb　to　scatter
propaganda　over　Japan。
El　Paso　was　even　more　boring；　nothing　to　do　but　follow　technicians　around　as　they　strung　wires
between　concrete　bunkers　and　a　tower　five　miles　away　in　the　desert。　Nothing　about　his
assignments　made　sense　to　the　young　soldier；　except　the　smiling　whore　whose　fingernails　made
little　dents　in　his　erection。
“You　are　muy　hombre　today；”　Rubia　said；　squeezing　him。　“Almost　I　believe　that　you　have　no
other　woman　since　you　come　here。”
“Another　woman？”　he　said　in　a　thick　voice。　“Not　a　chance。　I’ve　been　on　duty　the　whole
goddamn　time。”
“Come；”　Rubia　said；　tugging　on　him；　leading　him　toward　the　battered　mattress。　“Come　and　tell
your　little　Rubia　how　it　was　with　your　time。”
“Not　a　goddamn　thing　happened；　as　usual。”
The　soldier　let　Rubia　open　his　shin　as　she　had　already　opened　his　pants。　She　stood　against　him　so
that　every　time　she　moved；　her　full　breasts　rubbed　over　his　skin。　He　watched　her　hands　and　his
Page　24
own　body；　liking　the　contrast　between　his　full　pink　flesh　and　her　narrow　brown　fingers。
“It　was　bad？”　said　Rubia　sympathetically；　kissing　his　neck。　She　disliked　kissing　her　tricks；　but
Kestrel　was　paying　her　to　make　the　gringo　feel　very　special。　“Pobre…cito；”　she　murmured；
licking　his　throat　with　slow；　deliberate　strokes。
“We　sat　and　fried　our　asses　on　the　same　goddamn　piece　of　sand　whle　they　measured　and
muttered。　I　mean；　who　the　fuck　cares　if　the　tower　is　exactly　five　miles　from　the　bunkers？　It’s
stupid！”
“Estupido；”　agreed　Rubia；　pulling　him　down　on　to　the　bed；　guiding　him　until　he　lay　on　his
stomach　with　her　astride　him；　kneading　the　white；　freckled　flesh　of　his　back。　“Muy　estupido。　To
sit　and　sweat　there　when　you　could　sweat　with　me　in　my　bed。”
The　lieutenant　gasped　as　her　hands　moved　between　his　legs。　He　tried　to　roll　onto　his　back；　but
Rubia　held　him　immobile。
“Not　yet；　muchacho；”　Rubia　said；　laughing　at　his　eagerness。
The　lieutenant　groaned　and　lay　facedown　on　the　mattress　again。　Rubia　bent　over　until　her　breasts
rested　on　his　back。　Her　teeth　bit　into　his　shoulder。　He　shuddered；　but　did　not　object。　Marks
from　other　bites　covered　his　back。
“I　do　not　believe；”　whispered　Rubia；　“that　a　man　like　you；　so　strong；　does　nothing　more　than　sit
in　the　sand　all　day。　Do　you　not　even　play　with　your　cock；　muchacho？”
Rubia　bit　the　soldier’s　ear　and　cheek　and　neck；　all　the　while　moving　her　hips　as　though　he　were
already　inside　her。　She　sat　up　and　turned　her　face　toward　the　screen。　Smiling；　she　put　her　hands
over　her　breasts　and　moved　her　hips　in　silent　invitation　to　Kestrel。
“Tú　eres　muy　macho；”　Rubia　said　in　a　husky　voice；　staring　at　the　screen　while　she　stroked　her
own　body。　“I　will　do　anything　you　want。　Anything。”
Kestrel　heard　the　promise　in　the　girl’s　voice。　The　lieutenant　heard　it　also。　He　moved
convulsively；　forcing　Rubia　to　let　him　roll　over。　When　he　was　lying　on　his　back；　Rubia　slowly
moved　her　hips　over　the　soldier　without　letting　him　penetrate　her；　teasing　him；　prolonging　his
pleasure。　Rubia　was　very　good　at　her　work；　a　natural　whore。
“Let　me　–　“　gasped　the　soldier；　his　hands　grabbing　Rubia’s　maddening　hips。
Rubia　laughed。　Her　laughter　sounded　genuine；　surprising　Kestrel。　He　had　not　thought　her
capable　of　emotion。　Then　he　realized　that　she　was　amused　by　the　man　who　was　helpless　between
her　experienced　legs。　Kestrel　felt　almost　sorry　for　the　young　lieutenant。
“No；　no；　muchacho；”　Rubia　laughed。　“You　have　not　yet　promised　to　me　that　you　will　come
back　soon。”　She　reached　down　and　pinched　him　firmly。　It　was　enough　to　dull　his　need　so　that
she　could　bring　him　to　an　even　sharper　pitch　of　excitement。　She　lay　full　length　on　him；　teasing
him　mercilessly。　“Promise　you　come　back　only　to　me。”
“I’ll　try　to　get　back　before　we　leave；”　he　groaned。
“Leave？”　Her　teeth　paused　above　the　vein　beating　blue　against　his　neck。　“You　come　back；　no？”
“I’ll　try。　But　the　tests　went　well。　Those　fly　boys　said　if　we　ever　got　to　Wendover；　the　drinks　were
on　them。”
“Wendover？”　said　Rubia；　fondling　him　with　her　tongue。　“Is　that　a　–　how　you　say　it　–　a　bar？”
The　soldier　laughed　and　pinched　her　nipples　hard　enough　to　hurt。　Rubia　did　not　pull　away；　she
was　used　to　rough　handling。
“No；　baby；”　said　the　lieutenant。　“Wendover　is　an　air…base　in　Utah。　But　don’t　worry。　I’m　not
going　way　up　there。　From　what　I　overheard　yesterday；　I’m　going　to　stay　in　the　goddamn　desert
with　that　goddamn　tower　and　all　those　goddamn　wires　going　out　across　the　flattest；　hottest
desert　this　side　of　hell。”
“Must　you　go　far　from　here？”　she　pouted。　“I　miss　you　when　you’re　gone　too　long。”
“Not　that　far；”　he　said；　grabbing　her　breasts。　“It’s　north　of　some　place　called　Magord　or
Amgordo；　some　Mex　name。　There’s　gonna　be　some　big　test　soon　and　we’re　supposed　to　be
Johnny　on　the　spot。”
“Test？”　asked　Rubia；　working　her　Angers　down　his　body。　“It　sounds　of　danger；　no？”
Page　25
“Shit；”　said　the　lieutenant　in　disgust。　“We　should　be　so　lucky。　Unless　they　give　purple　hearts　for
sunburn；　I’m　gonna　finish　this　damned　war　with　nothing　to　show　for　my　time。　Now　come　here！”
The　soldier　grabbed　a　handful　of　Rubia’s　tangled；　dark　blond　hair　and　forced　her　mouth　down
on　his。
Behind　the　screen；　Kestrel　squatted　on　his　heels；　waiting。　Either　conversation　or　sex　would　begin
soon。　If　it　was　the　latter；　he　could　get　out　of　this　grubby　peephole。
Rubia　freed　her　lips　and　tried　to　get　the　soldier　to　talk　more。　After　a　moment；　she　sensed　his
determination　and　knew　that　she　could　not　put　him　off　much　longer。　It　would　be　better　if　sex
appeared　to　be　her　desire；　too。
“No　more　talk；”　Rubia　said　in　a　low　voice　as　she　slid　off　his　white　body。　She　lay　on　her　back　and
moved　invitingly。　“Or　do　you　not　want　your　little　Rubia　like　she　wants　you？”
The　lieutenant　mounted　Rubia　in　an　ungainly　rush。
Silently；　Kestrel　eased　out　of　the　cramped　passageway　through　a　side　door；　removing　himself
from　the　purview　of　the　god’s　eye　staring　blindly　over　the　sweating　buttocks　of　the　red…headed
soldier。
Juarez
66　Hours　Before　Trinity
（Radio　transmission　received　by　Kestrel。　Decoded。）
WE　HAVE　NO　INDEPENDENT　CONFIRMATION　OF　YOUR　SUGGESTION　THAT　A
SPECIAL　WEAPON　IS　BEING　SHIPPED　OUT　OF　LOS　ALAMOS。
RUMORS　OF　IMPENDING　TEST　OF　NEW；　VERY　POTENT　AMERICAN　WEAPON。
IMPERATIVE　YOU　REMAIN　IN　JUAREZ　TO　CONFIRM　OR　DENY　RUMORS。
REPEAT。　IMPERATIVE。　MAJ。　GEN。　SEIZO　ARISUE　IMPERIAL　ARMY
INTELLIGENCE
Juarez
61　Hours　Before　Trinity
Takagura　Omi’s　house　was　on　the　edge　of　Colonia　Chino；　the　Oriental　ghetto　surrounded　by
Juarez。　It　was　a　cultural　rather　than　an　economic　ghetto；　since　Takagura　was　a　very　wealthy　man。
Some　of　his　business　dealings　were　legitimate。　Most　were　not。　In　1930；　his　export…import
business　had　been　financed　by　the　Japanese　Imperial　Army。　Today　the　business　thrived　by　itself；
especially　the　illegal　portions。　The　profits　went　into　financing　a　network　of　spies；　thugs　and
politicians　who　made　Takagura’s　influence　felt　from　Mexico　City　across　the　entire　northern　tier
of　Mexico；　and　into　the　Little　Tokyos　of　southwestern　America。　Takagura　was　still　an　officer　in
the　Imperial　Army；　a　believer　in　the　Son　of　Heaven’s　divinity；　and　a　fanatical　militarist。　His　utter
loyalty　to　Emperor　Hirohito　was　one　of　the　few　certainties　Kestrel　had　found　in　Juarez。
Kestrel　set　aside　his　cup　of　tea；　silently　wishing　it　had　been　coffee。　He　had　acquired　a　taste　for
coffee　in　America；　a　preference　that　was　reinforced　during　his　years　in　Lisbon。　Takagura’s　home；
however；　was　rigidly　in　accord　with　traditional　Japanese　diet　and　manners。　The　few　exceptions　–
shortwave　radio；　telephone；　electricity　–　did　not　include　such　Occidental　amenities　as　chairs；
raised　beds；　or　coffee。
The　sound　of　footsteps　came　through　translucent　walls。　Kestrel　turned　and　stood　up　in　a　single
motion　that　spoke　of　controlled　power。　He　waited；　motionless。　The　light　from　a　corner　lam